


All I Want For Christmas Eve Is You

by RevolutionariesDontWearPlaid (GhostGrantaire)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Eve, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGrantaire/pseuds/RevolutionariesDontWearPlaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost Christmas, and Courfeyrac is lacking in holiday spirit.  Of course, he also has to worry about his grades for his last year of university, his severe sleep-deprivation over break, and the fact that he may be in love with his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas Eve Is You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Cap (Mysterious_Mouse) for being my beta! I also apologize for posting a Christmas Eve fic after New Years, but better late than never.
> 
> Minor warnings for swearing and talk of drugs and alcohol.

Courfeyrac was thoroughly miserable. It was December 22nd, only three days until Christmas, and he felt absolutely no holiday spirit whatsoever. Sure, he’d been wearing his annual Christmas sweaters, even listening to Mariah Carey on repeat when on the bus, but it just wasn’t the same as usual.

He knew it was like this for everyone this year. For most of them (excluding Cosette, Feuilly, and Bossuet), it was their last year at university. They were crammed with assignments, internships, work, and theses, and they didn’t have the time they usually did to spend on other stuff. Courfeyrac himself was practically drowning under all the work that came with balancing an Environmental Studies major as well as one in Sociology. Double majoring wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but at least he could suffer with Enjolras, who was wisely studying History and International Relations at the same time. But they were suffering through together, and hopefully by this time next year they’d be suffering through their first year of law school as well.

But right now Courfeyrac could care less about law school. He just wanted to take a break, hang out with his friends, and celebrate his favorite holiday, not to mention sleep. He could sleep for years.

But he had only just finished writing up a paper that was due his first week back after consuming several cups of overpriced coffee from the Starbucks he had been working at. He entertained the idea of sleep for a brief moment, but his body was buzzing from caffeine, so he quickly pushed the thought aside. Courfeyrac glanced at his clock. 12:16. The Starbucks was pretty much empty, save for a few masochistic students like himself that liked to work through break. He needed someone to talk to.

He pulled out his phone, not even thinking about who he was texting before the message was open.  
  
[Courfeyrac:] Where r u  
[Combeferre:] Sci Library- still working on my paper for Collins  
[Courfeyrac:] Omw with coffee  
[Combeferre:] :)

He arrived at the science library ten minutes later. Technically it was only for students in the Science School, but Courfeyrac had convinced everyone in there that Environmental Studies were enough of a science to be allowed. The library did come in handy for his schoolwork, but mostly he just visited it so frequently because it was the second home of his second best friend.  
  
Combeferre was studying biochemistry, which he was naturally brilliant at. He seemed to already have his future planned out: go to nursing school, become a pediatric nurse, work at his usual level of dedication and undoubtedly become the best nurse in the world. Alright, so that last step wasn’t in his plan, but Courfeyrac knew if it happened, Combeferre wouldn’t object, although he’d be a bit more humble about it. Courfeyrac, meanwhile, knew he wanted to study Environmental Law, but after that, he had no idea what the future would hold for him. Hell, he really didn’t even know if he would get into law school, but Enjolras and Combeferre kept assuring him that he would.  
  
Courfeyrac spotted Combeferre immediately. He was hunched over the desk, scribbling intently in a notebook and then quickly switching to his laptop. Courfeyrac never really understood why he didn’t just do his planning on the laptop as well, but Combeferre insisted that freehand helped him think, even if his writing was just barely legible.  
  
Courfeyrac crossed to his friend, who heard his footsteps and looked up, already smiling, even though he must’ve been tired. “Hey,” Combeferre said, glancing down at the coffee. “Is that—“  
  
“Black, two sugars,” Courfeyrac finished, setting down the coffee in front of Combeferre before plopping into an empty seat beside him. “Please, Combeferre, I’ve known you for four years, I know how you take your coffee. Though I almost did get you decaf. You look like you need the sleep.”  
  
Combeferre hummed as he took a sip. “I need the caffeine more.”  
  
Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “Not true. It’s break. Nobody should be so sleep-deprived over break.”  
  
Combeferre raised an eyebrow at him over his coffee. “I know for a fact you haven’t gotten as much sleep as you should have.” His mouth opened wider as if to continue, but Courfeyrac just cut him off.  
  
“Nope, you don’t get to lecture me. I’ve gotten more sleep than you have, so you can’t guilt-trip me until you’ve gotten a full seven hours.”  
Combeferre shrugged, turning back to the computer. Courfeyrac could see the light from the screen reflected on his friend’s glasses, highlighting the heavy bags under his eyes. This wasn’t good. Combeferre rarely showed physical signs of being tired.  
  
“Maybe you should finish this in the morning, ‘Ferre.” Courfeyrac said, and Combeferre just hummed again, clearly not listening as he typed. “It’s three days until Christmas, and I am not letting you sleep through my favorite holiday.”  
  
Combeferre glanced at him with a small smile. “Sleep would be a wonderful Christmas gift. Besides, it’s not like we’re going to do anything.”

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”  
  
Combeferre stopped his typing at took another sip of coffee before responding. “Well, Joly and Bossuet are both out of town this weekend, and seeing as their place is the only one big enough to fit everyone…”  
  
Courfeyrac’s frown deepened. “I thought they went out town last weekend.”  
  
“No, they couldn’t, Bossuet had to take on double shifts last weekend because a girl had to make up her finals that she missed when she had the flu.” Combeferre said like it was common knowledge.  
  
“Wait, so we’re just not going to do anything? I’m sure we can fit somewhere else!” Courfeyrac said in slight outrage.  
  
“It’s not only that. Everyone’s busy and exhausted. And you’re no exception, Courfeyrac,” Combeferre added gently.  
  
Courfeyrac leaned back in his chair as Combeferre turned back to flip through some biology textbook. He couldn’t believe this. Somehow Christmas had just gotten even worse. He didn’t realize Combeferre was looking at him until he heard his name.  
  
“Courf’? You alright?” He asked, concern in his warm eyes. Courfeyrac looked at him and managed a small smile.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered. He should have known better than to lie to his best friend, but when he was upset, Courfeyrac didn’t always think clearly. Combeferre looked at him for a couple seconds before turning back to his stuff. However, instead of getting back to work, he quickly saved his document and shut his computer, setting it gently in his messenger bag and packing up all the papers as well.  
  
“What are you doing?” Courfeyrac asked dumbly.  
  
“We’re going on a walk,” Combeferre said in explanation. Courfeyrac just continued to watch him, only really getting what he was saying when Combeferre finished packing up and nodded towards the door. “Come on.”  
  
“If you get cold or pass out from exhaustion halfway through, I will laugh at you for a whole minute before getting help.” Courfeyrac said, heaving a sigh as he got to his feet and followed Combeferre out of the library, waving to the girl working the front desk as they left. Combeferre didn’t respond, just smiled gently and started to walk towards the direction of their apartments.  
  
They walked in silence, the cold seeping past their gloves and scarves, but it wasn’t snowing or windy, which helped a lot. The university campus was gorgeous this time of year, the snow just having melted, leaving the grass in a gentle layer of slush and water that actually looked sort of pretty under the dark lighting.  
“So,” Combeferre said, and Courfeyrac looked at him. “What’s wrong?” Courfeyrac didn’t respond for a few seconds, and Combeferre continued. “You can’t lie to me, Courf’, I know you’re upset, I just want to know why.”  
  
“It’s Christmas,” Courfeyrac said, trying to find the words that didn’t make him out to be a ten-year-old child. “It just… doesn’t feel like Christmas this year. I mean, it’s our last year, and yet we haven’t had time to do really anything together, especially with the group, and I didn’t have time to decorate with Marius like I usually do, and it just… sucks, you know?” Courfeyrac shoved his hands into his pocket, feeling childish at this point. He kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting to see Combeferre’s reaction to his ridiculous explanation.  
  
“We’re still going to get together on New Year’s, like always,” Combeferre pointed out gently, and Courfeyrac knew that much was true. “But I know it’s not the same. I’m sorry.”  
  
Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “Don’t apologize to me, like, don’t ever apologize to me, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault I care too much about capitalist commercial holidays,” he said, which made Combeferre laugh quietly. “It really doesn’t matter that much, I’m a bit disappointed. But everyone’s busy, and I get that, I really do. And if they’re not busy, they’re just exhausted, like you.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow at Combeferre, who was looking straight ahead, an intense look on his face. Courfeyrac found himself watching his friends for a moment. Against the dark sky, Combeferre seemed to fade away, only his kind eyes and the glint of his glasses standing out. It was times like this Courfeyrac remembered in a quick shock how beautiful Combeferre really was.  Well, all of his friends, of course, but Combeferre...  
  
“So how is your paper going?” Courfeyrac asked, suddenly needing to break the silence. Combeferre looked at him with wide eyes, immediately jumping into a long explanation of what the paper was over and how he was structuring. Courfeyrac smiled, happy to listen to Combeferre talk. Hell, the guy could read the nutrition facts on the back of an orange juice carton, and Courfeyrac would still be fascinated.  
  
As they walked, Courfeyrac pulled his hands out of his pockets and began rubbing them together, hoping for some hints of friction that could warm them up. Combeferre glanced over mid-sentence and without missing a beat, took Courfeyrac’s left hand in his right, lacing their fingers together. Courfeyrac tried his best to keep listening, but all he could focus on was the feel of his friend’s hand in his, even if he couldn’t really feel it through the material of the gloves. That was beside the point.  
  
Ten minutes later they found themselves outside Courfeyrac’s apartment building. Combeferre was now explaining in detail all the pros and cons surrounding a proposed health care bill, though he stopped as they came closer to the tall brick building.  
  
“Alright, well, I’ll see you,” Courfeyrac said after a second. He was tired and felt like he could sleep for a couple weeks, but he really didn’t want to let go of Combeferre’s hand. “I should go make sure Marius hasn’t done anything too stupid in the past few hours.”  
  
Combeferre grinned and pulled his hand back so he could hug Courfeyrac. “Get some sleep, yeah?” He asked into Courfeyrac’s ear, making him shiver.  
“Only if you do,” he said as they pulled apart, and Combeferre laughed. He threw Courfeyrac a small yet genuine smile, and Courfeyrac suddenly got the urge to jump up and down. He firmly ignored it and walked the rest of the distance to his apartment as Combeferre began to walk to his own building, not looking back.

~*~

[Marius:] Hey are you busy today?  
[Courfeyrac:] Nah, what’s up??  
[Marius:] …  
[Marius:] I need to get Cosette a Christmas present.  
[Courfeyrac:] TODAY?  
[Courfeyrac:] ITS XMAS EVE!!!!  
[Courfeyrac:] ARE U SERIOUS???!!  
[Courfeyrac:] Alright let’s go I’ll be @ ur place in 10

“I just don’t know if it’s the best thing,” Marius said, probably for the twentieth time that morning. Courfeyrac groaned, resisting the urge to just stomp out of the bookstore.  
  
“Marius, we’ve been to over ten stores. You have to pick out something.”  
  
“I know, but it’s Cosette, and I want it to be perfect.” Marius said, setting down the book charm bracelet.  
  
Courfeyrac sighed, but he had always found it impossible to get too annoyed with Marius, so he just nodded. “Just keep looking up here, and I’ll peek at the section in the back, okay?”  
  
Marius nodded happily, turning back around. Courfeyrac just shook his head in amusement as he headed to the back of the shop, glancing around curiously at the shelves. They were in a small bookstore in half-hidden alley that they found on a whim while walking around the streets. It was filled with old books, vintage items, records, and strange knickknacks. The whole place screamed Combeferre, and Courfeyrac made a mental note to take his friend here after the holidays.  
  
There were several animal hats hung on a coat rack, and Courfeyrac immediately lit up as he spotted one shaped like a luna moth. He grabbed it and pulled it onto his head, pulling out a phone so he could snap a picture of himself. Grinning wildly, he attached and sent it to Combeferre immediately.  
  
[Courfeyrac:] Look! Im you!  
  
Pulling off the hat with a small laugh, he hung it back up and went back to scanning the shelves for Cosette. Five minutes later, he felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled out his phone.  
  
[Combeferre:] :) Beautiful  
[Courfeyrac:] >:( Y ARE U NOT SLEEPING?!?  
[Combeferre:] I have stuff to do  
[Courfeyrac:] You are going to die from sleep exhaustion  
[Combeferre:] Just promise me I’ll get a great funeral :)  
[Courfeyrac:] What kind of friend do u take me 4?? of course, your funeral will be the bomb  
[Combeferre:] What would I do w/o you? :)  
  
Courfeyrac smiled down at his phone, going to type out a response when a cough from Marius caused him to look up.  
  
“Texting ‘Ferre?” Marius asked as he turned to look through the shelves. Courfeyrac frowned. “Why do you ask?”  
  
Marius smiled, but tilted his head in confusion at the question. “Because you only smile like that when you’re texting Combeferre,” he said, as though it was obvious.  
  
Courfeyrac’s frown deepened. “That’s not true. I smile when I text all my friends.”  
  
“Well of course you do. But not that smile. That’s reserved for him.” Marius said, observing a very nice headband.  
  
“Marius, you’re not getting Cosette a headband, put it down,” Courfeyrac said, returning to the mission at hand. Marius wilted, but set it down, moving on to a stack of vintage fairytale books with beautiful illustrations. “Try Alice in Wonderland, she loves that one.”  
  
They ended up buying the Alice in Wonderland, which turned out to be ancient, filled with interesting annotations from its previous owner and colored pictures on every other page. They left the bookshop with a promise to return and started wandering the streets again, deciding to stop and get a hot chocolate.  
As they were sitting at the table, blowing on the drinks to get them to cool, Courfeyrac couldn’t help but asking once again.  
  
“Why would I have a different smile just for Combeferre?” He knew he should let it go, but something about Marius’ comments earlier had been nagging at the back of his brain.  
  
Marius took a sip and looked at Courfeyrac like he had sprouted a second head. “Because you’re in love with him.”  
  
Courfeyrac’s heart stopped beating, and he choked even though he hadn’t even drunk any of his chocolate yet. “What?” He asked, his voice high-pitched and strangled.  
  
Marius frowned, cocking his head to the side. “You’re in love with Combeferre?” He repeated, sounding less sure this time.

“Why would you—I’m not—that’s—“ Courfeyrac stopped and took a deep breath, staring at the table in shock. His mind was suddenly filled with memories of all the dorky texts, all the late night coffee runs, the museum outings and dinners, the hand holding because of the cold, the movie marathons, the inside jokes, the secret smiles, the times he’d gotten distracted because Combeferre was laughing or smiling or just looking at him… “Holy fuck I’m in love with Combeferre.”  
  
Marius watched him, his eyebrows slowly raising. “You didn’t know,” he said to clarify. Courfeyrac’s gaze flew to him, his throat dry.  
  
“No,” he said, taking everything slowly. “You knew, though. How did you know? Who else knows?” His voice got louder as he continued to talk. “Does Combeferre know?”  
  
Marius bit his lip, shrugging. “Cosette and Eponine know, seeing as they told me. Enjolras seems like he knows. I heard Bahorel mention it the other day to Jehan, and if Jehan knows, Grantaire knows, and that means Joly and Bossuet, and by consequence Musichetta, know as well. Feuilly knows everything.” Marius counted all of his friends on his hand as he went along. “Combeferre’s never said anything about it, but…”  
  
“But it’s Combeferre,” Courfeyrac finished in understanding. Combeferre was probably the most intuitive person in the world. It was impossible to keep anything a secret from him. Courfeyrac dropped his head to the table. “Fuck.”  
  
This was horrible. It was Christmas Eve, and possibly the worst day of his life. How did he miss this? How the hell did he manage to write off every swooping feeling in his stomach, every time his heart jumped in his throat, every time he felt like blushing just because Combeferre smiled at him? How did this happen?  
  
“It’s going to be okay, Courfeyrac,” Marius spoke up, because Marius is possibly the greatest friend ever, which is good, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to talk to Combeferre again, and he’d lose Enjolras by default because they’re never separated, so Marius is really the only best friend he has left. “Even if Combeferre does know, he’d never let anything come between you guys.”  
  
There’s a silence as Courfeyrac lets the words sink in, and then—  
  
“So, can I have your hot chocolate if you’re not going to finish it?”

~*~

They ended up staying out all day, Marius insisting that they had to look for New Year’s gifts as well. Courfeyrac didn’t complain, seeing as it allowed him to push his feelings to the back of his mind. He knew that if they went back to their apartment complex, Courfeyrac would be reminded of Combeferre at every turn. Out in the city, though, he could ignore it just a bit more.  
  
Before Courfeyrac knew it, the sky was dark. Every time he made a move to go home, Marius would suddenly become entranced in yet another store or display, and Courfeyrac would get dragged it. He really was friends with a puppy.  
  
Finally it was about eight in the evening when Marius agreed to finish up shopping. Courfeyrac hoped he’d be able to do something relatively festive tonight, even if it was just baking some mediocre sugar cookies. He hadn’t had a chance to use that moth cookie cutter that Combeferre had given him at Thanksgiving. He could make a batch and perhaps bring them over to Combeferre and Enjolras’s apartment…  
  
The sudden thought of Combeferre had Courfeyrac frowning, almost whimpering, as they took the subway back to the apartment. Marius had thrown him several sympathetic looks, and Courfeyrac knew he could tell what was going on in his head.  
  
“You didn’t have any plans tonight, did you?” Marius asked after they had gotten off the metro and began walking back to the university campus.  
Courfeyrac looked at him, suspicious of the sudden question. “No… why?”  
  
Marius looked at him with wide eyes, shaking his head quickly. “Oh, no reason. Just curious!” His voice quickly increased in volume, and Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows unimpressed.  
  
“You sure?” Marius nodded quickly, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of them. He was bright red, and Courfeyrac didn’t believe him for a second. However, he looked like he was about to burst from shame if Courfeyrac kept bugging him, so he let it go.  
  
By the time they reached their apartment, Marius was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Courfeyrac looked at him in curious amusement before unlocking the door and walking in.  
  
Immediately the lights flickered on. “SURPRISE!”  
  
Courfeyrac’s jaw dropped as he looked around at his friends, who were draped all over his kitchen.  
  
“You guys know my birthday isn’t until April, right?” He asked once he had found his voice.  
  
“It’s not a birthday party, moron, it’s a Christmas party,” Eponine said from where she was perched on his table.  
  
“But… Why—“  
  
“We all know how much you love Christmas, and we wanted to do something nice for you,” Marius piped up from behind him, grinning.  
  
Courfeyrac was now grinning as well, and he quickly pulled Marius into a tight hug. “You guys are the fucking best!”  
  
The crowd of his friends broke into laughs and somebody turned on the stereo in his living room. Courfeyrac pulled away from Marius and looked around at his apartment.  
  
There was tinsel everywhere, and cheesy holiday banners hung up everywhere. His counter was littered with Santa figurines of all shapes, sizes, and colors, alongside what looked like three poinsettia flowers. There were Christmas songs playing in the background, and his friends were everywhere.  
  
Eponine was chatting to Bahorel and Cosette about some TV show in his kitchen, sipping on eggnog and beer. Musichetta was telling a story animatedly to Floreal and Grantaire, and Feuilly was showing off his tacky sweater to Jehan, who looked like xe was in love. Courfeyrac said hi to all of them and gave them warm hugs. His embrace with Musichetta lasted especially long since she had to make up for Joly and Bossuet, who apparently had said they were both devastated to miss it, but would for sure be there on New Years.  
  
Courfeyrac pushed past everyone eventually, making it to his living room. There was a small plastic tree in the corner besides his couch, covered in way too much tinsel and tacky paper ornaments. The top, instead of having a star, was adorned with a picture that had been taken a year ago at their last Christmas party. This was perfect. Standing besides the tree were Combeferre and Enjolras, locked in some deep discussion. Courfeyrac felt his chest tighten as he stared at Combeferre. This was ridiculous. They’d been friends for almost four years, though it felt like they’d known each other their whole lives, and this wasn’t going to change anything.  
  
Courfeyrac walked over and swung his arms over both of their shoulders, despite being much shorter than both of them. “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.”  
Both of his best friends laughed and pulled back to actually hug him. He hugged Enjolras first, leaving a sloppy kiss on his cheek, which made him wipe his cheek with a laugh. He then moved to Combeferre, breath catching as he was wrapped in the warm embrace. It went on for longer than his embrace with Enjolras hand, and when they pulled apart, they stared at each other for a long moment. Enjolras let out a small chuckle and took a sip of his beer before leaving to go listen to Grantaire, who was now recounting stories from his martial arts days.  
  
“So,” Combeferre said, turning to look around the room. “What do you think?”  
  
“Best Christmas party ever.” Courfeyrac said, and meant it.  
  
“Not too shabby then?” Combeferre asked, as though he expected criticism.  
  
“Not at all. Though whoever was in charge of the tinsel got a bit excited,” Courfeyrac added with a chuckle.  
  
Combeferre laughed, making Courfeyrac’s chest tighten. “That was Bahorel. It probably wasn’t a good idea to put him in charge of that.”  
  
Courfeyrac nodded in agreement. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” he said quietly after a second.  
  
Combeferre didn’t look at him. “Well, everyone was so excited about surprising you. We all pitched in equally.”  
  
“But you were in charge. You did this. I know you did.” Courfeyrac watched Combeferre closely as he shrugged and leaned against the wall.  
  
“I may have thrown out a couple of suggestions,” is all he said in reply, and Courfeyrac laughed and shook his head.  
  
“Why? Why did you do it?” He asked, the question popping into his head. Suddenly, the answer seemed like the most important thing in the world.  
  
“You were upset,” Combeferre responded simply, looking at him with that intense look in his eyes that made Courfeyrac feel like he was drowning. “You would have done the same for me.”  
  
And yes, that much was true, Courfeyrac lives for doing spontaneous things for his friends, but it was beside the point. “I should marry you, right?” At Combeferre’s tilted head he says, “I’m pretty sure that’s the proper course of action when someone is this amazing.”  
  
Combeferre lights up, smiling widely. “That, or you could get me hot chocolate. Either works.”  
  
Courfeyrac winked, firmly ignoring the swooping feeling in his stomach that he felt when Combeferre smiled like that. “One hot chocolate, coming right up.”  
  
Courfeyrac led the way to the kitchen, Combeferre trailing behind him. The short trip took much longer than expected due to the amount of conversations he got pulled into along the way. He was in the middle of listening to Musichetta chat about her hellish Hanukkah that year when he heard Bahorel suddenly yell “MISTLETOE!”  
  
Courfeyrac looked over, half-expecting it to be over his head since all of his friends know how he loved to be affectionate. His laugh died in his throat as he saw Combeferre bending down gently and press his lips to Eponine’s cheek, who was now lounging by the stereo. Courfeyrac smiled, glad that experience was over, when Bahorel just groaned, and punched Combeferre on the arm.  
  
“Dude, that was the lamest mistletoe kiss I’ve ever seen. Including the time Enjolras had to kiss Marius,” Bahorel complained, making most of the room snicker at the memory. Enjolras let out a loud retching sound from the kitchen, and Courfeyrac couldn’t see Marius, but he was sure he was blushing.  
  
Combeferre looked back at Eponine, smiling as kindly as ever, but there was a new light in his eyes, one that always made Courfeyrac’s heart leap into his throat. But this time it wasn’t directed towards him, and his heart fell, past his chest and down to his shoes, as he saw Combeferre lean down again, this time more determined. His mouth crashed against Eponine’s with force, and the girl retaliated happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing back eagerly. Everyone in the room cheered, including a loud whistle from Grantaire, and they quickly pulled apart, grinning at each other. Courfeyrac vaguely realized he was the only one not laughing or clapping, but he found he couldn’t do anything except stare at them.  
  
Combeferre looked around, laughing at some of the comments thrown at him, but his eyes quickly found Courfeyrac’s and their gazes locked. Combeferre’s smile wilted, and he cocked his head to the side in slight confusion, and it was then that Courfeyrac managed a grin, nodding towards the kitchen as he went to make hot chocolate.  
  
As he turned away from Combeferre, his smile slipped off, and he felt inexplicably upset. It didn’t matter if it was just mistletoe. He knew there was nothing going on between Eponine and Combeferre. Eponine was still part of that on and off relationship with Montparnasse, and she has basically sworn off anything more than that until she had attained full custody of Azelma and Gavroche. And if Combeferre liked anyone, Courfeyrac would be the first to know, even if he didn’t want to.  
A sudden thought occurred to him. What if Combeferre did like someone, but he knew that Courfeyrac was in love with him? It was just like Combeferre to try and protect his friends’ feelings. What if he didn’t know as much about Combeferre as he thought he did? Courfeyrac felt sick.  
  
He was startled out of his thoughts when Combeferre appeared by his side, setting down the carton of milk he’d retrieved from the fridge. “Thought you might be able to use this,” he teased lightly, and Courfeyrac smiled weakly down at the counter. He could see Combeferre in his peripheral vision beginning to frown, but he really could not deal with confrontation and straight answers, two things that almost always came with being friends with Combeferre, and so he turned away to light the burner on the stove.  
  
“Do you want peppermint or normal?” He asked as he brushed some tinsel off of his shoulder.  
  
“Peppermint,” was Combeferre’s response, and it was quiet enough that Courfeyrac could barely hear it over all of the commotion. Courfeyrac’s shoulders tensed slightly. Knowing Combeferre was upset and confused was bad enough; knowing he was the cause made Courfeyrac want to either run forever in the other direction or fall on Combeferre and hug him for a million years.  
  
He didn’t say anything back, just fetched the proper cocoa mix and pulled out a saucepan from beneath the stove. It was quieter, and Courfeyrac looked around, realizing that almost everyone had exited to the living room. He could hear Cosette singing along loudly with the stereo, and realized that they must all be watching her. He bit the inside of his lip, willing himself not to run away.  
  
“Courfeyrac, if you don’t like the party, we don’t have to—“ Combeferre began, and Courfeyrac spun around, eyes wide. Combeferre was frowning, and he his lips were red like he’d been biting them. He forced himself to ignore that fact, instead speaking up.  
  
“I love the party, ‘Ferre. It’s perfect.” He tried to assure him, and Combeferre smile, though it looked slightly forced and completely exhausted. “When did you find the time to do all this anyway?”  
  
He turned back to finish making the hot chocolate, less upset now, as Combeferre answered him. “We set everything up while you were out with Marius. And we bought everything last night.”  
  
Courfeyrac shot him an odd look over his shoulder. “You seriously pulled everyone out of their beds after we talked and drove around searching for Christmas decorations?”  
  
Combeferre looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, no. I actually did most of the shopping myself.”  
  
“When you say most, you mean all, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question. Combeferre shrugged, and Courfeyrac shook his head fondly at him.  
  
He pulled the bubbling milk off the stove and mixed it in with the chocolate mix before handing it to Combeferre. “I do not deserve someone like you,” Courfeyrac said, and though he spoke it with a smile and teasing tone, there was a seriousness that laced it. Because it was true, wasn’t it? Courfeyrac was loud and manic and distracting, while Combeferre was intuitive and generous and intelligent, and nothing pointed towards them working as a couple. Combeferre deserved someone just as smart and incredible—  
  
He was pulled out of his self-deprecating thoughts by Combeferre’s response. “Courfeyrac,” he said sharply, “don’t say that. You know it’s not true. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”  
  
Courfeyrac knew he was blushing, but he could see the expression on Combeferre’s face, and he knew that if Combeferre ever blushed, it would be right now. He quickly continued. “Besides, human beings don’t exist on a system of ratings that just pair up people with other humans that match them on some superficial level to be friends or partners or anything else—“  
  
“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac interrupted, sitting across from him with a smile. “Shut up.”  
  
They smiled at each other genuinely, and Courfeyrac found himself much less nervous. He’d always been comfortable in their relationship, and he wouldn’t let that change now.  
  
Marius and Cosette suddenly burst into the room. “Courfeyrac, it’s two minutes until nine o’clock!” Cosette let out in a squeal. Courfeyrac looked at her, a bit confused, before it hit him. He grinned at Combeferre before jumping out of his chair and going into the living room.  
  
“Quiet down, everyone!” He declared, and slowly it quieted as everyone looked over. “I have an announcement to make!”  
  
He kept his eyes on the clock, and just as it hit nine, he began to sing. “December 24th, 9 PM, Eastern Standard Time, from here on out, I shoot without a script…”  
Much to everyone’s amusement, they managed to get through the entire first song of Rent with barely any pauses. Courfeyrac laughed as it continued awkwardly, having the most fun he’d had in a while.  
  
All of them ended up staying in the living room for the rest of the night, playing silly games of all sorts, watching cat videos on the internet, and Snapchatting Joly and Bossuet horrible selfies and videos.  
  
Feuilly and Bahorel were the first to leave, since Feuilly had to work a ten hour shift the next day—Christmas—and Bahorel needed to make sure he actually went to bed since the other man had a horrible habit of staying up reading the paper and watching the news instead of actually getting the needed amount of sleep.  
Their departure sent everyone else into a long debate about employee rights and the abuse of the working class through capitalist holidays. After a while, most people broke off into their own conversations, leaving the debate to Grantaire and Enjolras while Courfeyrac watched on, bemused. He looked up as Combeferre sat down beside him, and then nodded over to the still-bickering pair.  
  
“Do you think they’ll ever get their shit together?” Courfeyrac asked, watching as Enjolras broke into a wide yawn in the middle of the argument, causing Grantaire to stop ranting and frown in concern, only to start back up again when Enjolras cocked his head in confusion.  
  
“Yes,” Combeferre said simply. “Eventually. Enjolras will figure it out sooner or later.”  
  
Courfeyrac could feel Combeferre’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look over, not having enough courage. “Must suck for Grantaire, though,” he said, though he knew it went without say.  
  
“I think there are worse fates than loving someone,” Combeferre said after a minute, and Courfeyrac looked over, meeting his eyes. There was something hidden in his gaze, and Courfeyrac’s breath caught in his throat. He had a million things to say, a million questions burning in the back of his mouth, but he couldn’t phrase them, couldn’t find the words.  
  
“Yeah,” he settled with after a second. “Yeah, I think so too.” He was whispering at this point, wanting the words to be for Combeferre and Combeferre alone.  
“Hey, Courfeyrac, me, Chetta, and ‘Ponine are gonna head back to the dorms, we’re sort of wiped out.” He looked up to see Floreal smiling widely at him, and he happily got up to give her a huge hug. Floreal hadn’t been in their group long, only after briefly dating Bahorel, and then she sort of stayed, much to Courfeyrac’s delight. She was sweet and witty, and one of the only people who could top Grantaire on obscure classics references.  
  
He said bye to the girls, only to have Jehan leave quickly afterwards, making sure xe got a cab, because he’d seen xem drinking and smoking more than anyone else. After re-entering the apartment, he saw Combeferre stacking some glasses and mugs beside the kitchen sink. He peeked into the living room to see Enjolras and Grantaire still talking, but it wasn’t quite arguing anymore, probably due to the fact that Enjolras was about to fall asleep at any moment.  
  
“Where’s Marius?” Courfeyrac asked, helping stack the dishes in the sink as he looked over at Combeferre.  
  
“Him and Cosette already went to bed,” the other man answered easily, not looking up from the sink.

  
“Ah,” Courfeyrac responded. He could still hear Enjolras and Grantaire’s voices form the other room, a small reminder that they were not alone. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed by that fact.  
  
He didn’t know what Combeferre felt. Really nothing had changed from earlier that day, except now he had seen what Combeferre would do for him. There was a small kindling of hope in his chest, but he couldn’t handle that. He either wanted it to blow up to a full-fledged flame or burn out once and for all.  
  
“Hey Combeferre, I’m gonna drive this one home,” Grantaire said, sticking his head into the kitchen and nodding towards the room where Enjolras was probably half-asleep. “Do you wanna come?”  
  
Combeferre smiled gratefully but shook his head. “No, I’m gonna stay and help clean up. Thank for the offer though.”  
  
Grantaire shrugged before looking slyly between the two men. “You two have fun.” He ruffled Enjolras’ hair, startling the blond, who glared at him before getting to his feet slowly and carefully. “Alright, let’s go, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased as they walked towards the door. Enjolras managed a sleepy wave before the door shut behind them, but Courfeyrac had already turned back to Combeferre, confused.  
  
“You don’t have to help, you know, I was really just going to leave all this until tomorrow—“  
  
“I know.” Combeferre was looking at Courfeyrac strangely, almost expectantly.  
  
“Oh.” He glanced around, managing a laugh, and trying to ignore the knotted feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Didn’t want to ride home with Grantaire and an irritated and slightly drunk Enjolras? I don’t blame—“  
  
“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre interrupted, and Courfeyrac’s eyes flew back to him. He sounded almost distressed, and his brown eyes looked near wild. Courfeyrac was suddenly very, very aware at how close they were standing.  
  
“What?” He asked quietly, not taking his eyes off Combeferre’s, even when the taller man licked his lips and all Courfeyrac wanted to do was stare at his mouth.  
  
“Please tell me I didn't read this entirely wrong,” Combeferre said, no, pleaded.  
  
Courfeyrac’s throat was dry, but he managed a couple words. “You didn't. You definitely didn't.”  
  
They were standing chest to chest, and Courfeyrac could feel his best friend’s breath against his face. He smelled like hot chocolate and peppermint and something so distinctly Combeferre that Courfeyrac could barely breathe.  
  
“Can I kiss you?” Combeferre’s voice was barely a whisper, and Courfeyrac felt it more than heard it.  
  
He responded by placing a hand on the back of Combeferre’s neck and pulling him down to meet Courfeyrac’s mouth. Combeferre whimpered against his mouth—and oh, Courfeyrac was going to explore that, he was going to find out all the different sounds that Combeferre could make for him—before he kissed back eagerly, placing his hands on Courfeyrac’s waist. Their lips molded together, moving slowly, then quickly, then slowly again, as if they wanted to find their perfect rhythm.  
Courfeyrac backed the much taller man into the kitchen wall, not quite understanding why he had waited so long to do this. When he could barely breathe, he pulled back, drinking in the sight of Combeferre breathing heavily, his brown eyes almost black from arousal. Before they lost momentum, Courfeyrac pressed his lips firmly to Combeferre’s cheek, then his jaw, moving down his neck passionately.  
  
“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre mumbled. “Courfeyrac, we need to talk about this.”  
  
Courfeyrac paused from where he was licking intently at Combeferre’s pulse point. He bestowed one last kiss before pulling back, feeling dizzy.  
“You’re right,” he said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. He forced himself to take a step back out of Combeferre’s grasp, and then moving to the opposite wall. They stared at each other intensely, leaning their weight against their respective walls.  
  
“Ferre, I—“ Courfeyrac started.  
  
“How long?” Combeferre asked, and he looked absolutely, beautifully, destroyed.  
  
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, thinking about the words before he let them leave his mouth. “I only just realized. You?”  
  
Combeferre let out a shaky breath that sounded almost like a whine. “Since you dressed up as Hawkeye and told me about the importance of disability representation in media.”  
  
Courfeyrac absentmindedly brought a hand up to his hearing aid before he stopped short, Combeferre’s words sinking in. “’Ferre… that was two years ago.”  
  
“Well I—“ Combeferre’s words were swallowed by a huge yawn that overtook him, bringing Courfeyrac back to himself. He glanced at the oven clock, grimacing when he saw it was almost midnight.  
  
He crossed to Combeferre, tugging him by the arm of his sweater. “Come on.”  
  
“What?” Combeferre asked groggily, his eyes watering from the previous yawn. “No, we have to talk—“  
  
“We’ll have plenty of time to talk in the morning. You’ve been up now for about 30 hours, and you’re going to go to sleep.”  
  
Combeferre looked like he was about to protest, but he just yawned again instead. Courfeyrac led him to his own bedroom and flicked on the lights. There was a silence, and then, “Do you want to borrow some pajamas?”  
  
Combeferre looked at him, almost a bit embarrassed, and shook his head. “Yours never fit me, Courf’.”  
  
Courfeyrac nodded quickly. “Right.” There was a pause. “Your toothbrush is in the cabinet, like always,” Courfeyrac said. He let Combeferre walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, leaving Courfeyrac alone in his room.  
  
This was insane. Combeferre spent the night all the time. They were constantly sharing beds and pillows and basically everything. Now suddenly everything was awkward because of one kiss? As soon as it crossed Courfeyrac’s mind, however, his brain was overflowing with memories of how great that one kiss was. He’d never felt closer to another person, never wanted to feel closer to anyone else besides Combeferre.  
  
The bathroom door opened, and Combeferre walked out, dressed in only his undershirt and boxers that were red with tiny snowmen on them. Courfeyrac looked at them and let out a small laugh, which Combeferre returned sheepishly.  
  
“You can’t laugh when you were the one to buy them for me.” He said, and Courfeyrac shrugged in admittance. Combeferre frowned, and said, “Are you sleeping in that?”  
  
Courfeyrac looked down at himself, still dressed in a Christmas sweater and jeans. He quickly pulled off the sweater, shirt, and jeans, blushing brightly when he stumbled into the bed as he removed his pants. He didn’t meet Combeferre’s eyes, just looked around the room, quickly finding some thin Christmas-themed pajama pants to slip on over his boxers. “Are you sure you won’t be too cold?”  
  
Combeferre shrugged, already pulling back the covers on Courfeyrac’s bed and sitting down. “I sleep warm. Besides, body heat and all that,” he added, looking at Courfeyrac with a small excited smile that had Courfeyrac freezing.  
  
“You… I mean, sure, you want to… I thought after that… I could take the couch.” By the end of the sentence, Courfeyrac was blushing like mad, his ears feeling on fire in the slight chill of the bedroom.  
  
Combeferre tilted his head to the side, and Courfeyrac absolutely wanted to die from how adorable he was. “I mean, you’re more than welcome to sleep in the living room if you want. But I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed like we usually do. In fact, I would like to.” His answer was truthful and straightforward, and Courfeyrac wasn’t sure how he ever thought that Combeferre would be anything but. Of course there was the whole idea of Combeferre being interested in him—and that idea alone made him want to run to the top of his apartment building and dance while shouting at the top of his lungs—for an entire year without mentioning it… but they would deal with that it the morning.  
  
Courfeyrac grinned and nodded quickly, slipping into the other side of the bed and shivering at the cold feeling of the sheets on his chest. Combeferre removed his glasses and clicked off the lamp on the table before turning over to face Courfeyrac.  
  
“Goodnight, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac whispered, a gleeful tinge to his voice.  
  
“Goodnight, Courfeyrac,” Combeferre replied, reaching and tucking a piece of hair behind Courfeyrac’s ear. “Merry Christmas.”  
  
Courfeyrac could feel himself drifting off, but he managed to lean forward, pressing his lips to Combeferre’s one last time that night.  
  
“Best Christmas Eve ever,” he mumbled, and Combeferre’s responding smile was the last thing he saw before sleep overtook them both.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Please comment or give kudos :) Also feel free to message me on tumblr (ghost-grantaire) about anything!


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